<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Lambing Season by fieryphrazes</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22891783">Lambing Season</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fieryphrazes/pseuds/fieryphrazes'>fieryphrazes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>God's Own Country (2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Developing Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, One Year Later, Reflection, Self-Reflection, Tenderness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:27:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>704</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22891783</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fieryphrazes/pseuds/fieryphrazes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gheorghe focused completely on the task at hand, while Johnny’s mind wandered. He watched Gheorghe repeat the same motions that brought them to this point. It had been a year, Johnny thought, a year since he first saw how gently Gheorghe handled these fragile things. A year since he realized maybe he was fragile, too.</p><p>A year later, Johnny and Gheorghe return to the place where their relationship began -- and realize they've both changed.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gheorghe Ionescu/Johnny Saxby</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>119</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lambing Season</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was largely written a couple months ago -- when I saw God's Own Country for the first time, was electrified by it, and re-watched obsessively. It dominated my every thought for about 2 weeks, during which I watched it over &amp; over again. Now it only dominates my thoughts every once in a while... but believe me, it still has a hold over me. </p><p>I hope that obsession has translated well!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Deirdre saw them off, keeping a watchful eye from the kitchen window as Johnny sped off on the four-wheeler, Gheorghe’s hands tight on his hips. As they made their way to the far pastures, Gheorghe laid his head between Johnny’s shoulder blades, matching his breathing, keeping pace. A year had gone by quickly, he thought.</p><p>When they got to the ruins where they’d spend the next few nights, they unloaded the supplies they’d brought. First thing, Johnny shook out the two sleeping bags and started to zip them together. Gheorghe gave him that smile, the one that said <em>you are being silly</em>.</p><p>“What?” Johnny asked, not really expecting an answer. Gheorghe rolled his eyes.</p><p>“What makes you think I want to share?” he teased. “Maybe I am happy to be apart from you for one night.”</p><p>Johnny laughed – because it was laughable, the idea that Gheorghe, who clung to him, who let him cling in return, would ask for space. They needed each other, Johnny thought – Gheorghe needed to reach out, and Johnny needed to be reached for, although he was still learning how to take everything that Gheorghe offered, even after all these months.</p><p> </p><p>Before, Johnny had found the daily work mind-numbing, dull to the extreme, but it kept him from thinking. It kept him from dwelling on the – something – he could sense was missing. Now, as he and Gheorghe rounded up the ewes, his mind raced. It had been happening more and more, since Gheorghe returned home to the farm. Johnny felt something stretching in his mind, something that might be like his imagination – or like hope.</p><p>Gheorghe focused completely on the task at hand, while Johnny’s mind wandered. He watched Gheorghe repeat the same motions that brought them to this point. It had been a year, Johnny thought, a year since he first saw how gently Gheorghe handled these fragile things. A year since he realized maybe he was fragile, too.</p><p>“Hello, are you in there?” Gheorghe asked, looking up at Johnny from where he knelt on the ground. “Do not get lost,” he chided. “A lot of work to do.”</p><p>Johnny nodded, biting his bottom lip.</p><p> </p><p>Gheorghe felt tired down to his bones; it was nothing new to him, but somehow it had felt different these last few months. It reminded him of his farm in Romania, before he had realized it could not last. Perhaps, Gheorghe thought, this is how it feels to build something new.</p><p>The fire crackled, and the kettle started to rumble. Johnny peeled back the noodle lids, as Gheorghe reached for his jar of seasoning. He’d put it together last week, anticipating days of bland noodles ahead. He still couldn’t believe the way Johnny had lived before – no flavor. That wouldn’t do anymore.</p><p>As they ate, Gheorghe sensed a change in Johnny. They were almost always quiet, not relying much on conversation, leaning more on the minute expressions of each others’ faces and on casual touches.</p><p>“What is it?” Gheorghe asked softly, nudging his knee against Johnny’s, bringing him back to earth.</p><p>“Just… we’re right back here, aren’t we?” Johnny said roughly, trying to hide the emotion in his voice.</p><p>Gheorghe reached out to him, pressing one noodle-warm hand to Johnny’s cheek. He cradled his jaw, just as he’d done that second time – under this same sky – when he forced Johnny to confront the desire, the need to be touched. Johnny leaned into the touch and let his eyes drift closed.</p><p> </p><p>Back inside the stone walls, they slipped into the sleeping bags together, faces turned toward each other. Johnny reached out to Gheorghe first – tracing his bottom lip with a thumb, fingers brushing over the apple of his cheek.</p><p>In that moment, the low light just the same, Gheorghe could have sworn he was back at that night, coaxing Johnny to explore, to manipulate his blood and bone under those long, rough fingers. He exhaled harshly, hit hard by the memory, and suddenly needing so much more.</p><p>As their bodies worked in tandem, Gheorghe marveled at how far they had come, at Johnny’s open affection and undisguised desire.</p><p>That night, they fell asleep wrapped around each other, glimpsing stars through gaps in the crumbling roof.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments are always appreciated... let me know if you'd like to see more! I could see myself continuing, or leaving this as a standalone fic.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>